Chapter Five — Cracks in the Canvas
Lyra's POV
A few days passed after Crescent Bay, and Saint Valley High felt different — like the hallways were still holding echoes of the ocean. Everyone walked around sunburned and half-smiling, a little lighter, a little freer.
But something else had shifted too — something I couldn't name.
"Sol, are you even listening?"
Evan's voice pulled me back from my thoughts. We were sitting in the courtyard, half-eaten sandwiches between us. His hair was still messy from practice, sunlight catching on the edges of his grin.
"Sorry," I said, pushing a piece of lettuce around with my fork. "Just tired."
"From relaxing too hard?" he teased.
I smiled weakly. "Something like that."
He didn't push. That was one of the things I loved about Evan — he knew when silence meant leave it alone. Still, I caught him watching me every now and then, like he could tell something inside me was off-balance.
Across the courtyard, Soraya and Saphira were deep in conversation, their heads bent close together. Every few seconds, one of them would glance our way and then whisper again.
Probably planning the next list item.
The thought should've made me excited. Instead, it made my stomach twist.
After lunch, I had Art Club.
The classroom smelled faintly of turpentine and sun-warmed paper. Half-finished paintings leaned against the walls, colors bleeding into one another like soft arguments.
"Solnne," Rina called from behind an easel. "You're late."
Rina In was everything I wanted to be at seventeen — confident, unbothered, brilliant. Her hair was chopped short and dyed the color of storm clouds, and she always spoke like she'd seen through the world already.
"Sorry," I said, setting my bag down. "Got stuck in the lunch crowd."
"Lunch crowd or football boy?" she asked, smirking.
I flushed. "Both?"
She laughed, turning back to her canvas. "You're too easy to read, Lyra."
I rolled my eyes but smiled, squeezing paint onto my palette. The sound of brushes against canvas filled the room — a rhythm that calmed me in ways words never could.
"Working on anything new?" Rina asked.
"Yeah," I said, sketching the outline of a building. "I'm trying to mix perspective with light. My mom says architecture's about where space breathes — I'm trying to paint that."
Rina tilted her head. "You really want to design buildings?"
"More than anything."
She smiled softly. "Then you will. Just… make sure you don't lose yourself in other people's blueprints while you're at it."
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
"People like you — you absorb everyone. Their moods, their hurt, their mess. It makes you a great artist. But it also makes you fragile."
I wanted to say something back, but her words sat heavy in my chest, echoing longer than they should have.
By the time club ended, the sky had turned the color of bruised peach. I walked out to the parking lot where the others were waiting. Cassian leaned against his car, scrolling on his phone. Soraya and Saphira were arguing over a text thread. Aveline was sitting on the hood, humming.
"Finally!" Soraya said when she spotted me. "Okay, hear me out — the next list item."
Evan groaned. "Here we go."
Saphira grinned. "We're sneaking out to the party on Friday. It's number seven on the list: Sneak out your window to a party you weren't invited to."
Cassian snorted. "You're joking, right? Half the school's going to be there. It's basically public."
"Exactly," Soraya said. "It's perfect."
Aveline looked hesitant. "My parents are going to kill me."
Saphira shrugged. "That's the spirit."
They were all laughing, plotting, filling the air with energy I couldn't quite catch. I wanted to join in, I really did — but part of me couldn't shake Rina's voice.
You absorb everyone.
That night, while I sat at my desk pretending to do homework, I caught my reflection in the window — tired eyes, paint smudged on my fingers, the star necklace resting against my collarbone.
Evan's name glowed on my phone screen.
EVAN: You good?
ME: Yeah. Just overthinking again.
EVAN: About the list?
ME: Maybe. It just feels like we're trying too hard. Like we're chasing something that doesn't exist anymore.
EVAN: Maybe that's the point. Maybe we're supposed to chase it anyway.
I stared at his message for a long time. Then I typed:
ME: What if some things shouldn't be found again?
He didn't answer right away. When he finally did, it was short.
EVAN: Then we make new ones.
I smiled faintly, even though something about that hurt.
Friday came faster than I expected.
By sunset, my room was filled with the hum of a Lumera night — soft music from downstairs, my mom humming as she drafted another project under the warm glow of her lamp. I peeked into her studio for a moment.
"Going to bed early?" she asked, not looking up.
"Yeah," I lied.
"Alright, anak. Don't stay up too late sketching."
"I won't."
When I turned back to my room, I caught my reflection again — hair down, sneakers on, heart pounding. The star necklace caught the moonlight as I opened my window and swung one leg over the sill.
Outside, Evan's car headlights blinked once — our signal.
I took a breath.
For the first time in a long time, I didn't know if I was sneaking out for fun…
or trying to remember who I was before everything got too heavy.